


Choosing Transformation

by wasted_truth



Series: The Rickest Morty [8]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M, Medical Procedures, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_truth/pseuds/wasted_truth
Summary: Evil Morty makes an iconic decision, with Rick D-608’s support.





	Choosing Transformation

Rick held onto Morty’s wrist as alien nurses wheeled his hospital bed down the hallway. They were off-Earth, at a hospital that Rick had claimed was one of the best in the galaxy. However, it was clear to Morty that Rick was still concerned; it was in his face as well as his touch.

“I’ll be okay, Rick,” he said, putting his other hand over Rick’s.

“Are you sure you want to do this now? I mean, we planned it, but…” Rick trailed off, and his eyes narrowed. Morty could tell his face was being scrutinized for signs of doubt or fear, anything that might allow Rick to pull the plug on the entire procedure.  

“Yes, I’m sure,” he answered. _If not now, when?_  

Rick seemed to relent, running his free hand over his grey hair. The nurses stopped the bed in front of a set of double doors. “Mr. Sanchez, we’re going to have to ask you to wait in the waiting room,” one of them said. Morty glanced over at her; she was blue with four arms and appeared kind.

Distress flared up on Rick’s face, but he gave Morty a light kiss and squeezed his wrist before letting go. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Morty gave him a smile that was less nervous than he really felt. “Okay.”

He watched Rick standing motionless as he was pushed through the doors on his bed. When he saw Rick again, he would have a set of wires placed behind his right eye and connected to his brain. The purpose was to attach the wires to a transmitter so that he could control his artificial life forms. Creating AI was a good step, but there was always something false and, oftentimes, glitchy about it. If Morty could have direct control using a transmitter/receiver system, the realism of his own actions and words would be there. His creations would finally have the breath of life in them.

Morty closed his eyes and smiled at the thought.  

When Morty first pitched the idea of the implants, Rick had wanted to perform the surgery himself. However, after determining that he would have to remove Morty’s eye and perform brain surgery, even Rick had to admit he did not feel comfortable. He also didn’t have the sterile facilities and equipment to keep Morty under anesthesia long enough. In the end, this hospital was Rick’s recommendation.

“Mr. Smith?”

Morty looked over at the blue nurse. They had wheeled him into what was clearly an operating room, but he didn’t recognize all the instruments and equipment. His bed was side-by-side with the operating table.

“Move on over here,” the nurse patted the operating table, “and Dr. Twanex will be in to explain the procedure to you. Then we’ll get started.”

“Thank you.” Morty pushed back the blankets and scooted over to the table. His hospital gown flapped open in the back, baring his slim ass to the room. He clenched the gown shut and settled himself on the table.

While he lay on the slightly hard operating table, a tall doctor with facial tentacles came beside him. The doctor started to explain the procedure, which Morty mostly tuned out, except to nod at the right places. Morty recognized him as the head of the team that would be performing the surgery. He and Rick had planned the whole thing and discussed it with the team of doctors several weeks ago. They would be connecting a super thin copper network to his brain and three wires would run from that out the side of his right eye. This was a complete shot in the dark; it worked on paper, but there was no way to do a test run.

“All right, Mr. Smith, are you ready?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, doctor.”

“Good. We’ll have you under anesthesia in a moment.”

The doctor walked away and a few minutes later, Morty had a mask over his face, breathing in anesthetic. They had him count backward from ten, and he made it to seven before the world became dark.

***

_It hurts…pressure…what? Everything’s dark. I’m afraid, I’m afraid, Rick?_

Morty could feel his body start to shake with fear and pain.

Faintly, he heard, “He’s waking up. More anesthesia.”

Blackness rushed in.

***

The first thing Morty felt has he floated back to consciousness was an itch dancing like a tiny fairy on the end of his nose. He tried to move his arm to scratch, but couldn’t. He couldn’t even open his eyes or turn his head. The dancing itch continued, seeming to spite him. As he started to come around more, he also felt the discomfort in his right eye and the wires lying against his cheek.

Finally, he weakly lifted his arm and scratched his nose. He let his arm fall back on the bed, and someone took his hand.

“Hey, sleepy,” Morty heard Rick say softly.

Morty still couldn’t speak, but he feebly squeezed Rick’s hand.

“Everything went fine. You did good, kid.”

After an unknown amount of time, Morty could open his eyes and move a bit. Opening his right eye was uncomfortable, and he could tell by the swimmy sensation he was feeling that he had painkillers in his system. Rick raised the head of his bed for him. The TV was on, but it bothered Morty to focus his eyes on it.

Rick pushed his chair beside Morty’s bed again. “Once the doctor checks you out, we can go.”

“Al…ready?”

“Uh-huh.” Rick carefully touched Morty’s cheek, just below the wires. “Looks like they did a good job.” He took Morty’s hand again.

Morty closed his eyes and dozed off. He was woken some time later by the doctor, who checked his eye, reflexes, vital signs, and memory. Finally, he was pronounced ready to leave. Rick got him dressed and put on his shoes for him, while a new nurse brought in a wheelchair. The nurse got him out of bed and into the chair, and then they were rolling down the hall, with Rick walking alongside.

When they reached the main doors, Rick darted off to bring the ship around. Morty tried not to nod off in the chair, but failed. His head jerked up when Rick put an arm around him and started to lift him up. Throwing his arm around Rick’s neck, Morty leaned on him and staggered to his feet. Rick walked him the short distance to the ship. Instinctively, Morty started to list toward the front passenger side.

“No, no. Backseat.” Rick guided him, holding him up while opening the door with the other hand.

Morty started to climb through the doorway and saw that Rick had turned the backseat into a bed, with pillows and thick blankets. “Rick, you did this?” Somewhere through the wooziness, he felt oddly touched.

Rick helped him onto the seat, and when Morty curled up on his side, Rick covered him with a blanket. “It’s a long way home. I thought you should be comfortable.”

“Thank you.” Morty had already started to drift.

Rick brushed Morty’s hair off his forehead. “You’re welcome. Get some rest, Morty.”

***

“Hey. We’re home.”

Morty stirred at the sound of Rick’s voice and pressure on his shoulder. “Mmm.”

Rick pulled off the blanket, got an arm under Morty, and helped him sit up. “Come on.”

“Ugh, I’m so tired, Rick,” Morty mumbled. Rick got his other arm under Morty’s knees and lifted him out of the ship.

“It’s the anesthesia… _annnd_ the horse-load of fucking painkillers.” He carefully set Morty on his feet. “Think you can walk?”

“Yeah…if you help.”

“Oh, I was planning to.”

Very slowly, Rick helped Morty into the house. Morty struggled on the stairs, barely able to make his way up each step. Rick put both arms around his waist and lifted him just enough so that he could climb. By the time they made it to the bed, Morty felt sickeningly dizzy. Rick let him stand by himself for a moment while pulling the bedding back. With assistance, Morty sat on what was usually Rick’s side of the bed and sagged tiredly while Rick undressed him.

“Thanks,” Morty mumbled as Rick tucked him in.

Rick kissed his forehead and started to undress himself. “Sure, babe. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Instead of closing his eyes, though, Morty watched Rick strip.

Rick paused in the middle of dropping his pants. “Morty?”

“Hmm?”

“Go to bed.”

“Yeah.” Morty shut his eyes.

He felt Rick crawl into bed and drape an arm over him. “Can’t believe how much you are slurring.” Rick’s voice was soft.

That made Morty smile, wondering how bad it really was. He couldn’t tell. “I can’t believe we’re going to bed without sex,” he mumbled thoughtlessly through the drug fog.

Rick barked a laugh. “ _M-Morty._ Are you kidding? I practically carried you up the stairs. I don’t think you’re up to it.”

“True…” Morty felt another wave of dizziness.

Pulling him closer, Rick said, “Yes. Now please go to sleep.”

“’K…” It wasn’t long before blackness swallowed him.  

***

Morty woke up to a throbbing discomfort in his eye. He groaned and put his hand over it, the wires tickling his palm. He tried to open his eyes and immediately squinted when they were accosted by sunlight. It was only then that he noticed Rick wasn’t wrapped around him like he usually was.

“Rick?” Morty started to turn over.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Rick rubbed Morty’s shoulder, and Morty rolled over enough to see that Rick was sitting up beside him, in an infrequently worn bathrobe. He could hear the TV on very low. “I bet you’re ready for some pain meds.”

“Nghhh. Yeah. What are you doing?” Morty resisted the urge to rub his eye. “And how did you get me painkillers?”

Rick folded the shirt that was on his lap. “Laundry, and they gave me your dope at the hospital. You were asleep.” He set the shirt on a pile that was beside him. “You need to eat to take it. I’ll make you breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“In a bit. Not too awake.” Morty finished rolling and flopped on his back.

“That anesthetic is going to be in your system a while.” Rick leaned down and gave him a kiss. “You seem more with it, now, though.”

“Yeah, but my eye is bothering me.”

Rick studied Morty’s face. “Have you tried tucking the wires away? Maybe they are pulling or something.”

“Maybe?” Morty reached up and fumbled with the wires. After some clumsy attempts, he managed to tuck the wires alongside his eye, behind the skin. He had chosen very flexible materials for just this reason. Having the ability to hide the wires had seemed like the wisest course of action; there was no way to know when hiding his ability or avoiding the danger of having the wires ripped out would be necessary.

“Can you see them?” he asked, and Rick shook his head no. “I’m not sure it’s better. I feel like I have a lump next to my eye.”

“Hmm. I guess you need to get used to it. You did have pretty major surgery, Morty.”

“Yeah.” He sighed and carefully pulled the wires back out. Getting them out was easier than getting them in, it seemed. He was ready for those painkillers, but not sure he could eat.

Rick turned back to the laundry basket and pulled out a rumpled pair of Morty’s jeans. “I mean, you had your eye taken out, then they took out bone from your –”

“Rick, not helping,” Morty groaned. “I’m trying to be hungry.”

“Shit, you must not feel good. You’re never squeamish.” He set the folded jeans aside and carded his fingers through Morty’s hair.

Morty closed his eyes at the comforting touch. “Why are you doing the laundry?” he managed after a while. Rick was still stroking his hair, and although it helped, Morty was considering forcing himself to eat.

“Because it’s the quietest chore I can do and I’m not leaving you by yourself. It’s also after twelve, and I can only watch so much TV without multitasking.” 

“It’s after twelve?”

“I think it’s after one, now. I didn’t put my watches on, but the TV show changed.”

“After _one?_ ” Morty brought his hands to his face. “I should get up.”

“ _No_ , Morty. You are resting, no fucking arguments.” Rick pulled Morty’s hands down. “Think of this as a good excuse to be lazy and watch the idiot box in bed. How often do we do that?” He squeezed Morty’s hands. “You know we planned for this. We have no jobs right now.”

Morty sighed. “I know. I guess I should try to eat breakfast…lunch.”

“Good. Requests?”

“No…well, something not heavy.”

Leaning over and kissing his cheek, Rick said, “Want the remote?”

“Sure.”

Rick helped Morty sit up and tucked pillows behind him. Morty took the remote and turned up the volume after Rick left him alone. He squinted a little and forced his eyes to focus on the screen. It was a movie he’d seen before, but he couldn’t think of what it was called. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillows.

_I’m afraid, I’m afraid…_

“Hey.” Morty felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Wake up, Morty.”

Blinking, he looked over and saw Rick standing with a plate. “I fell asleep?” He tried to push the surgery memory away, but shuddered anyway.

“Apparently you did. I made you an omelet. I know it’s technically lunchtime, but,” Rick shrugged and then frowned. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.” Morty pushed himself up – he had slumped in his sleep – and took the plate and fork from Rick. It was his favorite omelet: heavy on the cheddar cheese, peppers, and onions. He took a bite, and the first swallow woke up his weak appetite. He sped through the rest of his meal. “Done.”

Rick took the plate and fork away. While he was gone, Morty ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath. _It’s just a dumb memory; it will go away. Just don’t give in._

Morty looked up when Rick returned with a glass of water and a pill bottle. Rick rattled the bottle. “Want your pill?”

“ _Yes._ ” He held out his hands. Rick gave him the water and shook a pill onto his palm. Tossing the pill into the back of his mouth, Morty chased it with water. He finished the glass and set it on the nightstand, while Rick climbed back on the bed. “How long until it kicks in?”

Sliding his arm around Morty’s shoulders, Rick said, “At least fifteen minutes.” Morty settled into the circle of his arm, feeling Rick’s soft yellow robe against his bare skin. “Want to finish this movie?”

“Okay…what was it called?”

“Cat’s Eye. Old film, before your time, Morty.” He crossed his ankles as he talked.

“Oh yeah. Didn’t we watch it when we had a Stephen King marathon like…three years ago? Four?”

“Yup.”

Morty thought about that night, sitting in the dark in the living room, sharing popcorn on the couch. “Wow, Rick, you showed Pet Sematary to an eight-year-old…or was I nine?”

Rick shrugged, tightening his grip. “You’re fine, no residual problems. If I recall correctly, you liked it.”

“I did. We should watch it again sometime.”

Rick only chuckled.

They watched the character of Stan Norris being blackmailed by Cressner on the TV. Around the time that Norris was forced to take the ledge, Morty started feeling loopy. When the pigeon started pecking Norris on the foot, something about a pigeon threatening this man’s life struck him as absurd. Morty giggled.

“Uh-oh.” Rick sounded amused. “Someone is high.”

“No, not high,” Morty argued, but giggled again.

“Um, Morty, I think I know what being high is, and you are high.”

Morty didn’t realize he was slumping down, but he did feel the dizziness coming back. “I do feel funny…can I sit on your lap?”

“Jesus Christ, I’m going to sneak some of your fucking pills myself. Sure, come on.” Rick helped Morty sit across his lap. Now he was resting with his good eye pressed below Rick’s prominent collarbone. Morty leaned into Rick as the older man embraced him loosely. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s the eye now?”

Morty reached up and touched the wires on his cheek. His face felt numb. “I can’t feel anything.”

“That’s probably a good thing.”

Closing his eyes, Morty relaxed against Rick and tried unsuccessfully to follow the audio of the movie. Eventually he gave up on listening. When Rick’s long fingers moved through the side of his hair, Morty wanted to melt, in a drunken way. He reached up and grasped the collar of Rick’s robe and pushed it to the side.

“Falling asleep or trying to take advantage of me?” Rick sounded teasing, not seductive.

“Mmmph,” Morty mumbled into the cloth of the robe. “Wish I could take advantage.”

“Oh?” Rick stroked Morty’s hair again. “And why’s that?”

Between the pain medicine and the hair petting, Morty had completely lost his filter without realizing it. It was mostly the fault of the medicine, but he was unable to separate the two possible causes. Without his usual restraint, and starting to lose consciousness at the same time, Morty said inaudibly, “To feel alive.”

“What?”

Morty had his eyes closed already and continued to mutter into Rick’s bathrobe. “I’m…most alive with you…with us…”

Morty felt Rick’s arms tighten and a series of kisses pressed to the top of his head. He slumped in Rick’s grasp and shifted to get more comfortable. Just before he drifted off, he heard Rick murmur, “Might just slip you drugs all the time to hear that shit.”   

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 has killed me dead! I'm very glad I'm posting slowly, so I can keep up with canon. Shit. I was going to split this story into two parts, then said fuck it. The next story will also be a one-parter, and then stuff starts getting looong. 
> 
> I went through acute kidney failure years ago and had multiple surgeries as a result...I pulled on some of my experiences for EM, so there's some behind-the-scenes info for you. 
> 
> [Follow my Tumblr](https://wasted-truth.tumblr.com/) if you're into that. Ask me questions if you got 'em or just say hi or whatever.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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